Midnight
by ValandMarcelle
Summary: A Hunger Games AU/Crossover in which Crutchie fears the reaping, Jack fears the future, and the author can't stop herself from writing sad things.
1. Chapter 1

**Let me start with an apology.**

**Currently, the fandom is filled with Christmas stories, holiday stories. Stories that are light-hearted, romantic, charming.**

**_But not Marcelle._**

**Nope, not me. In my defense, this is what happens when I watch The Hunger Games with Newsies on the brain. The idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it to get myself out of a slump. I'm sorry for bringing down the mood.**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>Jack woke to his brother's screams.<p>

He jolted out of bed and immediately over to the boy's side, where he was frantically attempting to control the sobs that escaped his lips every so often. His body trembled more than Jack had ever seen, and his sheets were balled up in his fists although they were sheilding him from some unknown force.

Jack could feel his own heartbeat pounding in his chest, almost beyond control, and he forced himself to breathe. Crutchie needed him.

"Hey! Hey, Crutch, wake up!" He shook his friend gently by the shoulders, as not to scare him more than he clearly already was. "C'mon, kid, ya gotta wake up!"

"No! No, please...not me..." Crutchie cried in reply, tears still flowing unceasingly down his face as he continued to thrash almost violently in his sleep. But his pleas had confirmed for Jack the source of his little brother's distress, and it wasn't going to be easy to solve.

"Crutchie, it's not you, it won't be you," Jack assured him, gathering the kid in his arms as he forced himself to uphold his soothing tone. "Your name is only in there four times. It ain't gonna be you. It's impossible."

Impossible. It had to be.

"Jack?"

Crutchie finally opened his eyes, blinking a few times, as though trying to determine if he was still stuck in whatever nightmare had previously consumed him. His breathing slowed as he found himself to be safe, and he returned Jack's embrace with almost a death grip around his torso.

"Yeah, kid, it's just me. You're alright." Jack murmured, ruffling Crutchie's hair with a worried fondness. "Ya wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

The boy in his arms sighed against Jack's shirt, and he slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry ta wake ya, Jack. I just...I...well, it was me. They pulled my name," he finally admitted, his voice laden with a shame that Jack knew he certainly had no reason to be feeling.

The reaping was a real, tangible fear, one that nestled in the back of Jack's own mind as well. It was the center around which their world revolved, although all of the newsies did their best to ignore it.

The reaping took one girl and one boy each year from the district of Manhattan to participate in the Hunger Games, a sadistic tradition created by the ruling Capital as punishment for a rebellion decades ago. It was a cruel spectacle, and it would be lying to say that the prospect of fighting to the death in an arena full of teens didn't scare each of them to the core.

But in reality, the newsies had been fairly lucky so far. They had only lost one to the Games.

"Crutchie, I swear it won't be you. There ain't no way it can be. You'se only got four slips in that whole bowl. There are hundreds of them in there, maybe thousands," Jack reminded him, trying to work as much affirmation into the words as he could-both for Crutchie and for himself.

After all, the words were true. Crutchie was fifteen, and his name had been entered into the reaping ever since he was twelve, as were the standard rules for all eligible teens in the districts. Each year, one additional slip was added, resulting in the total of four slips Crutchie had accumulated over the years.

In the scheme of things, four was nothing, insignificant to the overall amount of names that were submitted into the reaping. Jack could only hope that insignificant would be enough.

"Romeo had one."

Crutchie's voice became barely more than a whisper as he spoke the words, and Jack felt his heart drop into his stomach at the reminder.

Romeo had once been their youngest newsie, only twelve years old when he was sent to the Games. He had made into the first three days before...no.

Jack couldn't make himself relive Romeo's fate. He still remembered the terror etched into the kid's features when he had been called, still remembered the way it had broken the rest of the boys, especially Race. Jack felt the same pang of guilt every day that none of them had volunteered for him.

They had all been too shocked to register what was happening, and then it had been too late. Romeo was gone.

That would not happen with Crutchie. Jack would not allow it.

"That was a one time thing, Crutchie. It can't happen again, you hear me?" he insisted, forcing the younger boy's chin up to look him in the eyes. His were filled with doubt and worry, still damp with tears, making it almost physically painful for Jack to meet his gaze. But he did not look away, because he could not.

"There's a reason I don't let any of you'se take out tesserae. It's so ya have the lowest chance possible. So don't go thinking all our efforts are for nothin', okay?"

The Capital's system allowed for potential tributues to apply for tesserae, recieving a year's worth of grain and oil for the price of submitting their name into the reaping more times. Jack had refused to permit the newsies to even consider taking this option, but had secretly applied several times each year himself.

It kept the newsies alive, and so it was worth it. His own safety really had no weight in the matter. His own forty-something slips in the reaping bowl meant nothing.

"Okay, Jack," Crutchie replied hesitantly, obviously not fully believing him but attempting to fake it for his sake. He paused before his next words, as if debating whether to say them at all. "But what if it is me? Or one of the guys?"

"It won't be. Now stop thinkin' about it, alright? You can still get another hour of sleep if ya go to bed now," Jack held the younger boy at arm's length, fixing him with a gentle glare that coaxed a tentative smile from Crutchie, if only for a moment.

"Hey...um...Jack?" the crippled boy stammered, looking away from Jack briefly before finding the courage to meet his eyes again.

"Yeah, Crutch?"

"Do you think we could go on the roof? Jus' for tonight?"

Jack smiled at his little brother, ruffling his hair again as he glanced at the ladder that led up to the roof of the lodging house. Usually, the Capital's laws forbade any citizen to be outside of their homes at night, including rooftops. Of course, the newsies had never been inclined to follow standard, Jack especially, and so he often found himself stretched out under the stars on certain nights.

Eventually he had invited Crutchie along on his stolen escapades, to give the kid the feeling of what it was like to actually live a little. The other boy had grown quite fond of it, and both of them were known to go there when things got particularly rough.

Jack almost hadn't come down from the rooftop on the night of Romeo's reaping, and he hadn't been able to make himself go back up since. But who would he be to deny Crutchie his one small desire?

"Sure, kid. Anythin' you want," he gave in, rising to his feet and making his way over to the bottom of the ladder, knowing from the cautious, uneven footsteps that Crutchie was right behind him. They climbed up the ladder, Jack aiding his disabled friend until they were both lying on their backs, their faces freckled by the reflections of stars.

"D'you think it'll be different one day? I think it could be." Crutchie whispered after a few minutes of silence, his voice containing a hope that Jack wished he would never lose. His earlier fear was still present, but it was subdued, and that in itself convinced Jack that Crutchie's optimism had seen him through once more.

He still believed that change was possible, and Jack treasured the fact that someone living where they did could still possess such a trait. He wished he had it himself.

"I don't know, Crutchie," Jack admitted, wishing he could give his friend a different, more assuring answer. But it was all he had. "I guess we just gotta wait and see, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Crutchie replied softly, but the dejection in his voice was clear. He was afraid of the future-and if Jack was honest with himself, so was he.

"Let's just sleep now, alright? We can deal with it in the morning," Jack determined through a yawn that then spread to Crutchie as well. He could feel his eyelids pulling themselves down in an attempt to lull him into sleep, and he welcomed the sensation. The longer he could postpone the day, the better.

"Sounds good ta me," Crutchie agreed, curling himself into Jack's side perhaps subconciously. Either way, Jack welcomed the closeness of his brother, and put his arm around Crutchie's smaller shoulders. After all, who knew how much longer either of them would be in each other's company?

No, Jack would not lead himself down that path. He had to learn from Crutchie's infinite hope. The reaping would be there in the morning, just as it always was, and it was all too possible that it would bring tragedy once more among the Manhattan newsies. But why waste the time they had living on possibilites? Why good could come from dwelling on what he could lose while he still had it?

The Games had claimed so many lives, and Jack knew they would continue to do so until someone, someday, had the guts to stand up and stop it. But until then, he made a promise to himself, to Crutchie, to all of the newsies- a code that he would live up to until the day he died.

Never again would the Capital take Jack Kelly's boys from him. No matter the cost.

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><p><strong>Well that was depressing, even just to write. I really hope Jack or Crutchie weren't too out of character, but I just wanted them to have a Katniss-and-Prim type moment that they have in the beginning of The Hunger Games...so...that's where I drew my inspiration. I hope it wasn't too dumb. <strong>

**Don't forget to review! Prompts and suggestions are always welcome as well! I will be writing happier things in the future, don't worry. XD Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I must say, I'm surprised at how much positive feedback the first chapter of this got! It seems the fandom enjoys darker things? Hm, food for thought.**

**Anyway, here's then second chapter of this incredibly depressing tale. I hated to write this after seeing the tour a while back (which was incredible-Dan Deluca is great onstage and so approachable afterwards!), but I managed. I hope this one turned out as well as the first, I feel as though it's little rough.**

**Oh, and sorry about Romeo.**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>There were no papers that morning.<p>

Every business was shut down in accordance with the reaping, even the large and overbearing offices such as The World, with the exception of the doctor's office and the police station in town. Of course, the station was swarming with Peacekeepers as Jack walked by, their white uniforms glinting in the slowly rising sun.

Nature itself seemed reluctant to start the day, and Jack couldn't blame it. His own sense of dread was mounting by the second, because he could only expect the worst.

He had told Crutchie not to worry, that none of them would be chosen, to drive even the notion of it from his mind, but the practice of such ideals was not as easy as it was to say them. The darkness of the rooftop last night had made it less of a challenge to mask his own fear, but the daylight exposed it for all it was worth.

If any of the boys were picked again, the second year in a row...Jack couldn't begin to imagine what it would mean for the rest of them. For him.

Morale had been improving in the year since Romeo was taken from them, slowly but surely recovering from the blow it had sustained. Even Race had more or less dragged himself from the depression that Jack had worried he would never snap out of, and a relative cheerfulness seemed to become a regular part of the routine once again.

To see his family shattered again was something Jack feared he would not be able to handle. In a way, he was almost glad that the reaping was that morning. It would finally ease the tension that had been steadily growing in the lodging house over the last few days.

He made his way down the streets of Manhattan, taking in a rare day of almost-silence. The paved roads were being tred by people, just as they were every morning, but there was a certain stillness to them all the same. They seemed nearly hesitant to get where they were going, a feeling Jack felt stirring in himself as well.

He was only out this early at all to submit one more tesserae application, one more chance to increase his odds of being chosen, no matter how much it hurt.

His hands still shook from dropping the thin paper into the round, clear bowl, watching it sink, deceptively harmless, into the sea of fate that laid before him. Jack almost couldn't remove the image of it from his mind, and wished he could roam the streets until his head was clear. But the reaping hour was fast approaching, and he needed to return to the lodging house sooner or later.

He needed to be there for the boys, especially today of all days.

Quiet murmurs greet him as he lugged the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room, the nervous tension that filled the air hitting him like a slap in the face. The usual scattered, playful disposition of the newsies had all but vanished, exposing them in a way that Jack only really saw once a year. The boys were scared, no matter how they all attempted to conceal it. Their wide eyes and anxious glances gave them away.

"Mornin', fellas," Jack swung at forced cheerfulness as he shut the door behind him, locking the heat from outside into the room with them. Race was the first to approach him, as Race usually was when he had something to say, and the look his face now told Jack that this time was no different.

"The boys an' I were thinkin', Jack," he cut right to the chase, leaving no time or patience for preamble. But then, Race never had been one for theatrics. "What if we didn't show up today?"

"What?" Jack replied almost automatically, the shock of the words shooting the exclamation from his mouth. Race couldn't seriously be thinking...

"Yeah, we just stay here and refuse to go the reaping. I mean, what could they do? The dang Capital can't catch all of us," Race gave his reasoning, the surrounding newsies offering various affirmative comments. It was clear they had all been considering such a breach in protocol, and Jack couldn't deny the small burst of pride that flowed through him for the briefest moment.

These were his boys, his brave battalion. They wouldn't take anything sitting down. But this time, they had to see the error in the their ways, the flaws in their plan. Some fights just couldn't be won.

"Sure, not all at once. But I bet you anything they'd get the rest of us through the Games. Don't put it past 'em ta rig the thing," Jack sighed at the thought, internally wincing at the scowl that spread across Race's features.

His second-in-command had been a large contributor to Jack's ever-present worry recently, having been locked in his own realm of solitude for the better part of the year. He had been the closest to Romeo of anyone in the lodging house, and Jack had seen personally how protective Race had been of their youngest member.

He'd confided in Jack that the guilt had almost eaten him alive after the reaping, how he had convinced himself that he'd failed as a brother when Romeo had needed him most, how the loss had worn away at him. Race had written himself off as useless, a creature of no further value, and it had taken no less than the entire clan of newsies to show him otherwise.

He had undergone a tremendous recovery across the last few months, but Jack still tread carefully around certain topics, should Race's own suppressed emotions get the better of him-just as they were about to now.

"We can't...I can't...there ain't no way I'm goin' there today, Jack," Race finally spat, staring at the floor and tightly clenching his fists. Any lingering conversation ceased as the rest of the boys watched the scene play out apprehensively, seeming to want to get involved but not quite knowing how.

"They can come and drag me away for all I care. I ain't gonna let them just win, not after they..." Race trailed off as though stopping to compose himself, and Jack took the momentary opportunity to cut in.

"We have to," he simply pointed out in reply, in no mood to argue with Race on the matter. He had no desire to force himself back to the square, to stand in the heat and merely watch as one life was ripped apart after another. He was not looking forward to the helplessness he knew would grip him at the thought that he, Jack Kelly, could do nothing to save these people, could do nothing to even save his own family.

But the Peacekeepers kept a tight eye on the reaping attendance, and would know in a heartbeat if an entire gang of newsboys was missing from the crowd. There was no escaping the reaping, not a chance, and the boys had to see that.

"But-but what if we didn't, what if we can't-" Race's voice rose until it almost reached a shout, obviously beyond even trying to disguise his desperation at the thought of going back to the place where his life had fallen apart. Every step he took would remind him of Romeo, that much Jack knew. The boy's memory plagued him as well, but it was time to put on a brave face.

"C'mon, Race. I know how you feel, I promise ya I do. But if we don't go, it'll be worse later," Jack reminded him, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and watching as a resignation spread slowly across his face.

"Yeah. Okay. You're right," Race mumbled, not even bothering to argue anymore, abruptly shrugging off Jack's hand and heading towards the back of the room. Several of the others watched him go, Specs even standing as though he wanted to follow but instead sitting back down again.

Jack surveyed the group of them, these boys who had hardship worked into their bones and knew nothing other than this resemblance at life the Capital had laid out for them. They deserved so much better.

"Look, guys, I know I say this every year, but listen up," Jack addressed them after a moment, unable to suppress the smallest grin at the way each head swiveled towards the sound of his voice almost in unison, in one cohesive movement. They were a group, a unit, a gathering of street urchins that everyone refused to give a chance. But together, they could slay any giant. All but one.

"I don't know what names they're gonna pull today. It could be me, and...yeah, maybe it could be one 'a you'se. But these are the cards that are laid out for us, and we gotta play with the hand we're dealt. So we're gonna take this head on, together. All for one, gang."

The speech was sloppy, even Jack couldn't deny it. But it seemed to rally the boys, at least, to the point where Jack could nearly feel the mood lift slightly off the floor. They were still terrified, just as Jack was himself, but there was solace in the reminder that they weren't in it alone.

The brotherhood of the newsies meant that no man had to rely on just himself, a principle that applied to the reaping better than anything.

"'Course, Jack. All for one," a voice piped up softly from his left, and Jack turned to see Crutchie smiling faintly at him from his bunk bed, rising to his feet like a soldier preparing for battle. He returned the grin as best as he could as he noticed the fear still shining in his little brother's eyes, and his mind returned momentarily to the rooftop, to the vow he'd committed himself to. It was time to test his own strength-there no way he was letting Crutchie down now.

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><p>The rest of the boys followed Crutchie's lead as the clock tower struck two, signaling the arrival of the reaping at last. They headed almost single-filed out the doors and down the roughly paved roads, taking in the familiar streets as though they had never seen anything more enthralling in their lives.<p>

Jack lead the pack, marching almost to an imaginary beat, one that almost bordered on revolutionary. Almost, but how he wished.

The square was packed with residents of the district of Manhattan, their bodies hunched with the weight of the day or rigid with anticipation. The children of the city had already begun to split off into their respective age groups, a code that was not strictly written but more of a social custom that had developed over the years.

Of course, the newsies had always stayed tightly within their own ranks, feeding off the strength of each other more than anyone else. They stood towards the back of the crowd, just as always, waiting as the last of the stragglers trickled in and the ceremony could officially begin.

A larger, dark-skinned woman mounted the stage about a quarter after two, the representative sent by the Capital to "oversee the festivities," as the ruling city described it. Even her name, Medda Larkin, gave her away as a woman of wealthy upbringing, someone who could never begin to comprehend a life spent in the districts. And yet, Jack had always-well, perhaps _liked_ was too strong a word.

He'd often felt a signficant amount of respect for her, and the way that she conducted the reapings themseleves. She never treated them as though they were some kind of sick spectacle or celebration, contrary to her job description. No, Medda Larkin upheld her sense of professionalism and solemn duty, and Jack couldn't help but admire her for that.

"Here begins the reaping of this year's Hunger Games," She opened the ceremony as the dull mumbles of the districts settled down, unknownly holding herself to Jack's own standards of melancholy. "A time of repentence and remembering..."

She then proceeded to begin the usual ramblings that were required by the Captial, including the history of their country of Panem as well the origins of the Games themselves. Jack tuned out the words almost as soon as they began, and instead focused on Crutchie beside him.

The boy stood tall with a sort of dignity, as though to show the world that he was not to be overlooked. But Jack found it hard to miss the light tremble that still overtook his form as he stood, and a surge of panic flooded through him for a moment at the thought of Crutchie being the next one taken from him. What would he do without the disabled boy's constant light, what would any of them do without it? It was unthinkable, still impossible.

Four slips. Crutchie had four slips. Jack had forty. What were they always saying about the odds?

"Are you alright, Jack?" A squeeze of his hand brought Jack back to the present as Crutchie looked up at him anxiously, somehow more concerened about Jack's own mental well-being than the immient danger of the reaping. What a kid.

"Yeah, Crutchie, I'm fine," He reassured him, very obviously lying but knowing that to say anything else would be entirely the wrong move. Crutchie eyed Jack warily, not convinced of his claim but still holding onto his hand with a tight grip as Medda Larkin approached the infamous glass bowl.

She had already called the girl's name, Jack noticed. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts to register the newest tribute until he saw her standing on the stage, her chin held high and her hands folded neatly in front of her, with wavy amber hair cascading to her shoulders.

Jack barely recognized her, as her dress and general put-together appearence marked her as a resident of the nicer side of town, one that he made a point not to frequent. But still, he couldn't help but feel pity well up inside for her. She looked around his age, with a life ahead of her. What could she have brought to the world that would be wasted now? What would the end of her story be?

"And now for the boys."

Suddenly, the words Jack had dreaded for a full year had been spoken, and his focus flew from the girl and back to his boys. And, to a lesser extent, himself.

Jack Kelly had never been particularly pious, but it was in that moment that he prayed with everything he was worth. Four slips. The phrase echoed through his mind. Four slips.

_Please, not them. Not Race, not Albert, not Specs, not Henry, not Finch, not me, and please, please not-_

"Crutchie Morris."

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><p><strong>Yeah, this is not getting any happier anytime soon..but I do plan on some kind of Christmas story once I have an idea for it! Don't forget to review! Prompts and suggestions always accepted as well. Thanks for reading!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm still amazed at all the wonderful reception this story has been getting! I originally wasn't going to post this at all, but now I'm so glad I did! **

**This will be a short chapter, just because I'm going to be busy for a while, drowing in all the things I have to do before the holidays. Sorry for the disappointment this may cause. XD**

**Enjoy...? If you can?**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>The hand clutching Jack's trembled, squeezed with almost bruising force, and let go.<p>

Jack let his hand fall limply to his side, as numb as the rest of his body felt. His mind seemed to be spinning, the scene around him turning with speeds he had never experienced before.

His ears faintly registered noises coming from what he now considered the outside world, shouts and murmurs alike that sounded equally distant. It was a lie, that was the only explanation. A lie. Impossible.

Four slips.

Movement from his right shoved Jack back into his senses, and he turned to see Crutchie beginning to slowly limp towards the stage, dragging himself almost as though he was in a similar daze. He had almost left the group of newsies when he stopped, turning to look at Jack with eyes so wide and horrified, tears already beginning to gather, and everything inside of the older newsie seemed to collapse.

This couldn't happen, this wouldn't happen, there was no way it was even possible!

Jack's words from the night before rang in his own ears, the promise he had made now turning against him in a cruel twist of fate.

_"Crutchie, I swear it won't be you."_

He had sworn, he had promised, he had put everything he had into making sure Crutchie believed him. But what good had that belief done him? Nothing. It had landed him in the Games.

Memories of a similar scene came flooding back to him, instant reminders of another newsie. Another little brother Jack had failed to protect. It was Romeo all over again, a loss that Jack could not accept.

How could it happen again?

"Crutchie!" The shout escaped Jack before he could even comprehend it, and he found himself surging through the crowd, the boys around him parting to let him through. They weren't attempting to stop him, and somehow Jack found it within his maddened thoughts to feel grateful. Even Race stepped aside to let him pass, glancing away in the split second Jack met his eyes.

The newsies were letting him go, letting him do what they must have known he had to do. And it was then that Jack realized he had already made his decision, a subconcious choice to make good on his vow. After all, what were promises if he failed to keep them?

Crutchie would not fall prey to the Games, not if Jack Kelly had anything to say about it. He would not lose anyone else. He would not fail this time.

"Crutchie!" Jack called again, finally pushing through the masses of people and making his way to the younger boy, who had stopped in his tracks and was staring at Jack with nothing less than shock and confusion written on his features.

But soon his puzzled expression changed into one of panic, as though he had begun to realize just what Jack was about to do.

"Jack, no, please don't-" he started to plead, desperation coloring his tone as Jack placed himself in front of his brother, as though sheilding him from the words he was about to say. He met the startled eyes of Medda Larkin with unwavering resolution, steeling himself for the coming moment. His defining moment.

"Crutchie, I have to," he murmured to the boy still standing behind, practically shuddering at the sobs that formed his reply. He hated to think of hurting Crutchie this way, loathed the fact that he had to at all, but it was infinitely better than letting him live his final moments alone in the arena as Romeo had. He would not do that to Crutchie.

"No! No, Jack, you can't-" the younger boy refused what he must have known was inevitable, grabbing at Jack's arm although to pull him back and away from the nightmare they were living. But they had crossed a threshold, the point of no return, and Jack was ready to accept his fate. It was his duty.

_You're wrong. I need to protect you. It's the only thing I got left._

He took a breath, not daring to look back.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

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><p><strong>Again, sorry this was so short. Although, maybe a shorter chapter helped to add to the sheer intensity of the moment by not overwhelming it with a lot of useless detail? Or maybe not? I don't know.<strong>

**Don't forget to review! Any and all prompts and critiques or suggestions are very greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Merry Christmas, my fansies! As your present, I have another depressing chapter for you! I know, I know...I'm sorry for all this sadness, especially since everyone is in the spirit and I'm writin****g stuff like this, haha. But a late Christmas story will be coming, I promise! But until then, pleas e enjoy this chapter! I'm sorry it doesn't include Katherine as was requested. Originally, she was going to be featured, but I got really stuck when writing this chapter and I very much wanted to post it today. I assure you, she was feature prominently the next chapter and in the rest of the story's duration.**

**Happy holidays to everyone! Enjoy!**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur, a series of seemingly disconnected events that Jack couldn't make an effort to remember as he sat in an ornately decorated room in the Justice Building. The only recollections he had were of suddenly finding himself atop the stage in the square, watching as Race and Specs forcibly dragged Crutchie back into the crowd, the younger boy fighting with all his might to get to Jack.<p>

He silently thanked the other newsies for getting Crutchie away from the hands of the Peacekeepers that had tried to shove him back as well, a favor Jack wasn't sure he would ever get a chance to repay.

And, for some unfathomable reason, the handshake he had exchanged with the female tribute stayed tucked away in the back of his mind, a memory he returned to when his thoughts could no longer bear the weight of his current tragedy. The touch had been brief, but she had gripped Jack's hand as though trying to transfer some kind of strength to him, whether or not she had any herself.

Although, something told Jack that the girl was much stronger than looks would have him believe. He couldn't help but think what an advantage that would be for her in the Games.

The Games.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut as the implications of just what exactly he had gotten himself into began to settle in. He was going to be thrown into the middle of an arena, left to face certain death at the hands of a bunch of kids. Children who were no older than himself.

Jack was seventeen, the majority of the other tributes were most likely younger than him. His natural instinct was protect the young, to stand up and watch out for them. How could he do that in the arena? But then, could he turn on children who would be so much like-

"You have three minutes," The guard's voice penetrated into Jack's tortured thoughts, snapping his head towards the direction of the door as it opened. The man only just had time to step to the side to avoid being trambled by each and every newsboy in Lower Manhattan, who all stormed into the room in a wave that radiated anger and urgency.

"Jack!" Several cries of his name rang out at the same time, and soon the newboy leader was surrounded by his brothers, all of whom were attempting to crush him in a hug. It was Crutchie who got to him first, however, wrapping his arms around Jack's torso just as he had the night before.

Just last night, when Jack had given his word that everything would be fine. Why was Crutchie not disgusted by him, repulsed by the liar he had become?

How could that boy find it in his heart to forgive someone like Jack?

"You can't do this, Jack, you can't go!" Crutchie practically sobbed as he buried his face into Jack's shoulder, successfully tearing the older boy's heart to shreds. He returned his friends' embrace just as tightly, wishing he would never have to find it in himself to let go.

"You know I had to do that, Crutch. I didn't have any other choice. I wasn't just gonna let you go face that nightmare," he forced out a reply, fighting with all he had to keep his voice steady. The time for weakness had ended the moment he had become a tribute.

"But now you have to face it," Crutchie murmured, the truth of his words resulting in the silence that had befallen the room. Jack glanced over Crutchie's shoulder, only to find the somber faces of the newsboys looking back at him. The air in the room hung low with a kind of grief, as though they were already mourning him, and Jack couldn't help but suspect that they were right in doing so. There was no chance of his return, none that he could even begin to fathom.

Jack Kelly would not murder innocent children in that arena, that much he was certain of. The other tributes were just as much a victim of their circumstances as he was, and they did not deserve to die for it at his hands. And if he would not kill, than there was only one ending to his story. And it did not invovle any kind of glorious homecoming.

"I...I know. But it least it wasn't you, or any of the others," Jack reasoned, once again meeting the painful stare of his friends. Many of them looked away, as though afraid to look into the eyes of a dead man, but Race held his gaze with a ferocity that Jack had only ever seen on one other occasion.

"Don't do this, Jack. You can fight back, we'se all can! If we finally just stand up to them instead of just letting them walk all over us-"

"No, Race, it doesn't work like that!" Jack sharply cut him off, his own terror transferring into anger as he spoke. "If I try anything, they'd kill me. They might even kill all of us. I did this because it's my job to keep you'se safe, not to try and overthrow the whole system! Can't you understand that for once?"

"I just don't want ta lose anyone else, okay?" Race shouted, his rage seeming to have finally blown a fuse as his figure visibly crumbled under the burden they now all shared. He breathed deeply, and Jack watched as he prepared to speak his next words. "I don't want ta see you die, Jack."

"Me neither," Albert mumbled tearfully in agreement, and the rest of the newsies began to shake their heads in protest around him.

"We need you, Jack!"

"These Games are evil, what if ya don't make it?"

"It's like Romeo all over again!"

The last statement hit Jack with a fresh sense of guilt that he managed to push to the side. No, this was not like Romeo. They had let Romeo go without a fight, but Jack had refused to repeat the same mistake. He had volunteered for Crutchie, he had stepped forward and gave all that he could. It was more than he had done for their youngest brother.

"You're our family, Jack," Crutchie reminded him, looking up at Jack with damp eyes that silently begged him to change his mind. Of course, he couldn't have known that it was the one thing Jack couldn't do if he tried, that nothing could sway him from his decision. Crutchie had to be spared, and Jack had to be the one to make the sacrifice.

That was the code brothers lived by, and for once in his life, Jack wanted to follow the rules to the book.

"You're my family, too, Crutch," Jack assured him, drawing the boy close once again and ruffling his hair. The familair gesture was almost enough to draw tears that had been gathering behind his eyelids, the movement reminding him of all he was about to lose.

"So you're gonna try ta win, right?" Crutchie asked, that trace of hope he was known for still dectectable even in the darkness their world was fading into. "You're gonna try to come home?"

"Yeah, kid. 'Course I am," Jack replied almost instantly, the reponse springing from his lips as though on impulse. It was his second nature to assure Crutchie, to assure any of the boys that any situation could somehow turn for the best.

Perhaps it was better to continue the strategy now, even when he knew his odds were the most slim they had ever been. It was what the boys needed to hear.

"Time's up!" The guard's command broke into the gathering of newsboys, who frantically looked to Jack for orders, perhaps out of their own instincts. He sighed, knowing the moment he had internally dreaded had arrived. He had to say goodbye to his own family.

"We'll see ya soon, Jack," Race determined instead as he shook his hand, all earlier tension forgotten. He nodded, feigning strength as much he could for the rest of the boys, who quickly engulfed him in a group hug before pulling away and slowly making their way out the door. Crutchie trailed behind the rest, keeping his eyes locked on Jack's and eventually having to be prodded by Specs to finally head towards exist.

"Good luck," he whispered, and somehow managed a smile. It was the last Jack saw of Crutchie before the door slammed behind him.

**I really, really hope this wasn't too crappy. In my defense, I am quite tired, and I don't have anyone to read over this, and so it may be rewritten at some point. Anyway, happy holidays! Don't forget to review! Any prompts or suggestions are welcome as well. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hooray for kind-of quick updates! I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations, as I really try to please the masses. Luckily, this chapter makes no mention of the one character I keep mentioning, so at least that's one request met. XD And finally, here's Katherine, for those who were looking foward to her appearence. I'm so pleased with the positive response this has been getting, I've never had so many reviews on one of my Newsies stories! Please enjoy this chapter!**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>The next time the door opened, it was only a girl who entered the room.<p>

Jack recognized her almost immediately as the female tribute, the girl who's handshake had still not left his mind. She closed the door quietly behind her, an aura of cautious decision eminating very clearly from her as she stepped towards him.

Jack lifted his head in greeting, a strange mix of curiousity and suspicion beginning to fill him as they held each other's gaze. What reason could she possibly have for coming to see him?

"The boy. The one you volunteered for. Was he...was he your brother?" She inquired after a moment, her tone soft as the question left her lips.

"He might as well be," Jack replied without hestitation, his own voice seeming several degrees colder and more distant than it usually was. He let his head fall into his hands, not particularly caring if the girl considered him rude for doing so.

The desire to be alone for a single moment overwhelmed him, and he found himself almost wanting to shout at the girl, scream at her to leave the room and never bother him again. But yet, Jack knew he wouldn't be able to summond the will to do so, and he instead met the girl's still penetrating gaze.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned almost wearily, and the girl shrugged, although not uncertainly, as she took a seat on the couch beside him.

"I just wanted to tell you before they start watching our every move," she started with just a touch of underlying bitterness towards the Capitol, her eyes still locked on his and her features bordering on almost gentle. Jack shook his head slightly, his confusion not lessened by any means at her answer.

"Tell me what?"

"That you're very brave," she replied almost instantly, her words carrying a sincerity that Jack rarely caught wind of in his own world. He began to feel his apprehension towards her melt away in the warmth of her voice, and he cursed himself for letting his gaurd down as she continued. "And I admire you. What you did took some guts, and a lot of love. Most people wouldn't even think of volunteering like that."

"Yeah, well, most people ain't got brothers like Crutchie," Jack sighed at the thought of the kid before forcing himself to steer his mind away. Dwelling on Crutchie or on any of the boys would only make the coming days harder than they were inevitably bound to be.

"Do you want to talk about him?" the girl pried, as though she was trying to help him in one way or another. There was something undeniably confusing about the girl, about her visit in general. And yet, the more she spoke, the more Jack found that he wanted to listen.

But still, he wasn't ready to give up his life story to a woman he had only exchanged a dozen words with.

"No, I can't-I mean-I barely even know ya..." he stammered, finally breaking eye contact with her and turning his head away, wishing in that moment that he was a million miles away, having any other conversation than the one he was currently stuck in. But the girl merely sighed in return, even being so bold as to take one of his hands in both of her own.

Jack fought back his split-second impulse to pull away at the touch, willing his nerves to steady themselves. She was only trying to help, to give him support when she would undoubtedly need plenty of her own in the near future. It was an act of kindness that Jack could barely comprehend, but he knew he had to accept it for her sake.

"I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to ask. I just want you to know that...what you did was one of the most selfless things I've ever seen. And I wish someone like you wouldn't have to go through something like this," she admitted, her words slow, as though she was carefully choosing each one before she spoke, giving them a melodic rythm that Jack was almost lost in before forcing himself back into reality. She was treading dangerous water, couldn't she see that?

He could not get to know this girl. He could not become close to her, he could not get attached. Because they were both headed to the same place, the same final destinstion, one where friendship meant next to nothing and comradery was all but extinct.

Once he was attached, she would be gone. Jack could not afford to sustain that kind of loss in the arena, or it would be his own downfall.

"You know we can't be friends or nothin', right?" he asked suddenly, as though he hadn't heard her confession. But he had, and Jack knew it was because of feelings such as hers that he had to cut off all connection with her. She would be grateful for it later, if he were the first of them to go.

"What?" The girl sounded less wounded than he had expected, confusion instead making up the majority of her tone. Jack struggled to find the words to say, scowling in frustration as he pulled his hand from her grip.

"I just...what I mean is...look. You an' me? We ain't goin' ta no summer camp. Whatever's waitin' for us is gonna be brutal."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Yeah, I think you do, which is why I don't get why you'se is even here in the first place!" His pity had inexplicably transformed into a blazing anger, one that sent him to his feet and pacing across the room. "Why would you try an' get to know me or whatever when you or me or both of us is jus' gonna die anyway?"

"Maybe I just thought you would need some compaionship! Maybe I was trying to help you!" the girl rose from her spot on the couch as well, her fists clenched as she stared him down once more. The compassion that had once shone in her eyes was gone, replaced instead by hurt and what Jack could only indentify as fear. It made sense-he had done nothing but remind her of her own inescapable fate. But still, the words kept coming, almost beyond his control.

"Well, thanks, but I don't need anything from you. We can't get close, or it's jus' gonna bring us down later," His voice had dropped an octave from his previous shout, but Jack could feel the venom pulsing in his words. He ceased in his ranting, his breathing heavy as they both stayed planted in their spots. Finally, he sighed again, running a hand through his hair and dropping back onto the couch. "Don't you got anyone else who's wantin' ta see ya?"

"Not particularly," the girl spat, firmly crossing her arms and heading towards the door. Jack resisted the urge to follow her, to ask why she had no other visitors, almost wishing he could apologize for his rough demeanor. But his resolve held through by the consistant reminder of what awaited them, even as the girl placed her hand on the doorknob and turned back to him with a spite that made Jack almost nervous to be on her bad side. "It was nice talking to you. Mind at least telling me your name?"

Her biting tone sliced through Jack with surprising force, and he found himself internally wincing as he gave his answer.

"Jack. Jack Kelly," he sighed, reluctantly meeting her now piercing glare one last time. "You?"

"Katherine."

The doorknob turned, and she stormed out of the room in a whirlwind of what almost felt like betrayal. It was only after the door slammed shut that Jack realized Katherine had never given her last name.

**So, was that too bad? I wrote this somewhat quickly in order to publish as soon as possible, but I like how it turned out. Was I right in thinking so? Don't forget to review, and any prompts/suggestions are welcome as well. Thanks for reading! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, fellow fansies! I am soooo sorry this chapter is so late, writer's block hit me hard until last night. In fact, that's when I wrote the majority of this chapter, and I am glad to finally be updating! I'm ever grateful for the wonderful reviews and support this story has gotten, it definitely makes it worth it! I hope I can inspire others with my writing as other stories have. **

**Enjoy!**

**-Marcelle**

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><p>It seemed as though hardly any time had passed before Jack found himself staring at a pristine white ceiling in the Capital. The Tribute Training Center where they were staying was a towering building, only one of the many focal points that littered the sprawling city.<p>

The Capital had always previously loaned itself to myth in Jack's mind, a place that seemed too distant to be real until he was actually in **it's** midst. He had barely been able to comprehend the sights that had met his eyes from the bullet train that had taken himself, Katherine, and Medda Larkin to the Capital from Manhattan. The city was almost overbearing, each building more complex than the last and each person more unreal than the one before them.

Jack had never seen such strange combinations of hair and skin tones in his life-but at least his bed was comfortable.

He crossed his arms behind his head on the surprisingly soft mattress, sighing as he listened to the bustle of the people in the streets below. The day had been long and draining, but Jack still could not let his eyelids fall. Sleep sounded almost like a foreign concept to him, one he knew should come naturally to him but was becoming increasingly hard to come by.

But search as he might, rest remained frustratingly elusive, and Jack once again fought back the urge to scream. He wanted nothing more than to escape, a wish he knew would be impossible to grant himself no matter how hard he tried.

"The Center is of course under constant surveillance, but it is the best the Capital has to offer," Medda had reported as she led Jack and Katherine into the tribute living quarters earlier that evening. Jack couldn't help but be in awe of the finely decorated penthouse suite, complete with holographic screens and the most lavish furniture he had ever laid eyes on. He wished he could somehow show the boys all he was seeing before him, prove that life could be better than the gray dull that was their district of Manhattan. "They at least try to make your stay as welcoming as possible."

"Yeah, how considerate of 'em," Jack had mumbled with complete sarcasm, the impressive state of the room not in any way compensating for the burning anger he still harbored towards them. He hated the Capital, loathed them more than anything else, and a nice couch wasn't going to change that.

"Jack, please," Medda had sighed wearily, shaking her head but not reprimanding him any further. Jack knew she didn't appreciate his comment, but her refusal to deny it also struck him as something particularly admirable about her. After all, she hadn't lectured them on the train about any _wonderful opportunities_ they'd been given, or tried to convince them that they should consider themselves grateful.

No, Medda Larkin had not treated them as her own personal sacrifices, ready to be primed and prepared before slaughter. The first words out of her mouth on the train had been, "I'm sorry," and Jack couldn't stop himself from beginning to actually like her.

"Sorry, Medda, just bein' honest," he had replied in defense, recieving another deep sign from Medda and a brief glare from Katherine in response. His partner hadn't muttered a word to him on the train, refusing to even sit by him or have anything to do with his company at all.

Jack would have been bothered by her complete denial of his very being, had he not been the one to enforce it in the first place.

Katherine continued to shun him through their tour of the living quarters as well as through the entirety of dinner, and Jack was beginning to hear the deafening silence in the night now that everyone else was asleep. The sounds of the content Capital citizens below only fueled his strange sense of lonliness, the hustle and bustle below him seeming a just few frustrating degrees short of familiar. Manhattan was just as busy as the Captial, people always moving about, carrying on their daily business and trying their hardest to get by.

The shining city in which Jack now found himself was in a similar constant state of motion, but it seemed colder. Harder, even, unfeeling compared to the occasional sense of unity Jack sometimes caught wind of in his home district. The people in the Capital seemed to move along without stopping to get to really know anyone or anything around them, and it made Jack sick to his stomach. No wonder they condoned events such as the Games, no wonder they felt no sympathy for those who lost their loved ones-they probably had no idea what it was like to love in the first place. Jack knew love, even if it was just for his boys.

He knew what it was like to care so much for someone that he would do anything for them. It was the very reason why his eyes were beginning to blur around the edges now.

Jack finally rose from the bed, it's comfort no longer alluring as a wave of homesickness washed over him in tides, making his stomach churn and his head reel with the pain of it all. He stumbled from the window and out into the hallway, the lights each posted on the wall a few feet from each other helping to guide him into the main living space and to the window that made up the wall on the far side of the sat on a small ledge just below the window, looking out over the gleaming Capital skyline and imagining that he could see all the way back to the lodging house.

It was only nine o'clock, Medda had made them go to bed an hour ago in order to get an "appropriate" amount of rest for the first day of training the next morning. Jack closed his eyes, recalling what the boys would usually be doing at such an hour.

Race and Finch would be ensnared in their on-going poker match, a valiant fight that had somehow lasted for days and was showing no signs of stopping. Specs would be polishing his glasses again, his preferred method of relaxation, while Buttons would be continuing in his loving efforts to teach Jojo to read. He was the only one who could do it, as he had a particular way with preteens such as Jojo like no other fifteen year old Jack knew.

Henry and Albert would have found their way into the kitchen, carrying out some last-ditch heist that would ultimately fail, and Crutchie...well, Crutchie would have been with Jack, on the roof. They usually went up early, when everyone else was busy and the sky was clear, talking with each other on any given subject.

Jack couldn't help but remember their last conversation, their last few moments of solitude where Crutchie had built up his own hopes only to see them crashing down in the morning.

He winced, the memory punching him in the gut. What would Crutchie be doing without him now? What were any of them doing? Jack could only hope Race had pulled himself together enough to take the lead, or Specs if anyone else. Someone had to step up, someone had to be the rock, the voice of strength in Jack's place. He wished he could see them now to make sure they were alright.

"What are you doing up?" a voice cut through Jack's longing, and he turned slightly to see Katherine walking towards him from the hallway, a robe wrapped around her pajamas and her hair now loose from it's earlier curls. She looked stunning in the moonlight that filtered in the room from outside, and Jack forced himself not to look at her, instead turning back towards the window and focusing his gaze on the moon.

With any luck, Crutchie was staring at the same moon Jack was, and then they could at least be connected somehow.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled a reply, knowing Katherine wouldn't just leave him be if she didn't some form of an answer.

"I couldn't, either," she admitted, sitting on the ledge beside Jack and following his gaze across the skyline. Jack stole a glance in her direction, wishing he could say something to make up for his earlier behavior. But he couldn't, and his front-seat view of the Capital reminded him to remain silent.

"Did you really mean everything you said? About not being my friend?"

Of course, Katherine did the talking for him, leading Jack into the very conversation he wanted to avoid. She was persistant, he had to give her that. It wasn't a bad quality, really...

"I...I guess so. You want don't to get all chummy with me just to see me bite it later, do ya?" he reasoned, his voice now shades more sympathetic than the last time they had spoken. The guilt of having treated someone as caring as Katherine with such disrespect weighed heavy on his mind, and it seemed as though it might be powerful enough to turn the tides of his thoughts.

"Jack, we've only been here for one afternoon, and this place already seems so empty when I'm alone. I can't stand it, and...well, you seem nice, when you're not yelling at me to stay away from you," Somehow, Katherine managed a small chuckle, a sound that Jack never thought he would hear again since the reaping. He grinned in return, willing to treat his earlier outburst as a joke if she could as well.

She was funny, even in their grim situation, and Jack couldn't help but like that about her. He was finding more things to like by the second, and he knew it wasn't going to be easy to keep his distance anymore.

"I guess there ain't much company around here," he agreed, shaking his head slightly with the knowledge that he was about to make a decision he couldn't be sure if he would only come to regret. But in the moment, he was surprised to find that he didn't care.

"I'm going to need a friend, Jack, especially here. I know you think it's pointless, but...I think it's just whay both of us need," Katherine finally disclosed, facing him directly and meeting his eyes for the first time. They were green, he noticed. And they were pleading. They needed him to be there for her.

"I guess we'se can be friends. If ya don't mind a plain-spoken egomaniac like me," Jack relented, working a joke into the absolution if only to disguise his own growing worry. He'd done it, he let her in. Was it worth it? Jack couldn't say, but he realized that he would want Katherine by his side in the coming days.

He had never been alone, not with the boys always providing constant companionship, and he had no desire to experience such a new lonliness in a place such as this. And besides, Katherine was decent company.

She grinned, relief visibly washing over her features as she began to laugh.

"No, Mr. Kelly, I don't mind at all."

**Yay, Jackrine friendship! Even in The Hunger Games, I can't keep these two apart for long. I was thinking of having some chapters switch to the newsie's point of view, if that would be something of public interest...? It's a thought. And if there are any questions as to where Davey and Les are, they will be included later...although maybe not in the greatest way. All shall be explained in time...in the meantime, don't forget to review! Prompts would be the best thing ever at the moment! Thanks for reading!**


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